This Far
by Ghanaperu
Summary: "He is my lifeline right now, the only reason I am forcing myself to keep breathing. But at the same time, if he would just say what they want to hear, this would all end. And if I live through this, I'm not even sure we could ever be friends the same way again. It changes something, you know? To know that your partner will go this far." Warning: includes torture.
1. Chapter 1

I am screaming. I've given up my vow of silence and I'm screaming bloody murder, cause this hurts like hell and all my air is gone and I can't breathe and I didn't even know pain like this existed. In fact, I'm not even sure pain is the right word anymore: this is living death. And it just keeps going on and on and on and it never stops but eventually I have nothing left to scream with and everything fades away into blessed night.

:::

He is screaming - loudly - and it sounds like intense pain. But no, it is not simply pain he is screaming about; I hear terror in his voice as well. I feel as if I am coming out of a dark fog, and as my mind clears I hear my name screamed over and over.

"Wake up, wake up!" He is screaming; and I try, but I can't and the dark fog rolls over me again.

:::

When I am next aware, I hear quiet sobbing next to me. It is hard to move, hard to open my eyes; but I'm dying for a drink of water and maybe whoever is crying can give it to me. I force my eyes open and try to sit up, but there is something stopping my right arm from moving. It makes me angry and for some reason I want to cry. That strange reaction is immediately forgotten as I see who is next to me. It is him - he is the one sobbing. And now I remember.

"Did you talk?" I mumble thickly. He swipes at his face angrily and shakes his head. It is a firm shake, a determination to never give in, no matter the cost. I sigh a little and close my eyes, and he scoots over closer to me and grips my hand with his, sticky with my blood. I squeeze it tightly, but keep my eyes closed. "I'm sorry," he manages to choke out; and I nod, to tell him it's okay.

He sits there and makes no more noises except sniffling and the sound his hand makes when he wipes the tears away. I keep my eyes squeezed shut and try to pretend that if I don't look at where we are I can forget, and it won't hurt so much. But it's not working, and god, it hurts. Everything hurts, even breathing. I can't make myself pass out again, and I'm never gonna sleep when I'm in this much pain, so I just hold on to his hand and keep breathing. Just keep surviving one minute more.

His noises quiet down after some time has passed, and his grip slackens a little and I know he is falling asleep. Good for him to get sleep now, before they come back. And they will be back.

He is my lifeline right now, the only reason I am forcing myself to keep breathing. But at the same time, it hurts way more than I want it to that he could stop this and he isn't. If he would just say what they want to hear, this would all end. Either death or freedom, it doesn't really matter to me anymore - both would take the pain away. Although, death would do it faster...

But he won't talk. Of this I am completely certain. He will die a thousand times over before he will betray his country, and that loyalty is one of the things I admire most about him.

But here, now, I almost wish he would just give up. I wonder what classified information is worth all this. Could anything be worth this? I was sure of my strength back when we started this op, but now I'm not sure that I could hold out if our positions were reversed.

I think I might be past the saving point, so that even if we were rescued now I would still get relief only in death. Could I have let it go this far if it was me watching them kill him slowly? I don't think so. I am loyal to my country, but whatever classified information we are protecting couldn't possibly be worth his life - not to me. I am weaker than him, in that.

But is it really weakness? This proves to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that his loyalty is first to his country, and then to me. I am not his top priority. If I die here, he will be furious and broken and he will grieve for me; but if he caved and gave up secrets here then he would probably kill himself. So my life is not more important than the information we are protecting. What does that say to me? I don't know what he means, but to me he is saying "You're not worth it. Your life is not worth betraying my country for." And I've got to admit, that hurts. I thought I meant more.

Actually, no, I didn't. I hoped I meant more. I think I always knew what is most important to him, and it was never me.

Not that he is my top priority either. I have other people that rank higher than him - but he comes before random government people and their classified secrets. He is definitely way more important than them. Way. So it is a confused hurt, that wonders why he is letting me suffer like this when he could easily make it stop. If I live through this, I'm not even sure we could ever be friends the same way again. It changes something, you know? To know that your partner will go this far.

My dark thoughts are abruptly cut off as his grip on my hand tightens again and I know he is waking up. I keep my eyes shut, but I can hear his breathing change as he becomes fully aware of his surroundings again. He makes a little noise of utter despair, and then squeezes my hand. It hurts, but I barely even notice, and the comfort is well worth the pain anyway. "I'm so sorry," he whispers again, and I can hear the tears clogged in his throat. I want to squeeze back, but I don't have enough energy to do that and still breathe. He must not realize I am awake and aware, because he is crying now, and whispering pleas to me to stay with him.

"Don't you dare die on me! Come on, wake up. Oh god, please, you gotta hold on for me," he begs. I wish I could reassure him, but I can feel the fog finally closing back in.

The last things I hear before I slip away again are the sound of boots coming back and his terrified gasping breaths and the words he screams as the door opens. "No! No! Stop it! You can't take him!" But he doesn't say he will talk, so my arm is roughly freed and I am being dragged and his hand is torn from mine and he is sobbing - the sobs of hopeless rage. And then the darkness takes me.


	2. Chapter 2

**[AN - so I've never had a response to a story like I did for the first chapter of this, so here is the rest of the story. Be warned, it may not be what you were hoping for. Warnings for torture, mild language, thoughts of death, and an overall dark theme. No real happy ending here.**

**A little explanation - each chapter switches viewpoints, and there are four total chapters - two from each viewpoint. All are consecutive, in terms of time - except the last one, which overlaps chapter three quite a bit.]**

You're not allowed to care too much. Everybody in this job knows that, and knows why, too. It's cause if you care too much about your partner, you can't set their well-being aside to do your job. That's why we have the rules about not dating co-workers, and not letting siblings work together, and stuff like that: to prevent misplaced priorities. In this line of work, the job has got to come first.

I know all of that, and I know it well. Caring too much just complicates things, and puts you in situations where you die either way. I mean, you've gotta trust your partner, and you've gotta have their back and all that, but you can't care too much. People's lives depend on my ability to allow him to risk his own life for their sake, and I can't let them down.

This is what I tell myself over and over, sitting here with him. He is unconscious, unaware of me or anything else. But I'm sure he won't be for long, because they're coming back for him. And eventually, this will kill him. I'm sure of it. If it doesn't stop really really soon, then he's a definite goner.

And I can make it stop. I could tell them what they want to know, and they would leave him alone, for a while at least. But I can't turn my back on my job - not even to save him. I have never allowed myself to care too much, never let my own desires get in the way if what has to be done. I thought it was the right thing. God, I thought it was the only way!

But he's the one lying here, in his own blood and vomit and pus; and I'm the one who's perfectly unscathed - because I'm the one who has what they want to know. Not him. They know I won't break, but they thought maybe I had allowed myself to care too much, become too attached - so they took him, to make me talk. I haven't said anything yet. I'm too far along this path to give in now, but god if I could go back and redo it, I would. He deserves better than this from me.

He deserves better.

See, he never worried about caring too much, because somehow he cares about everyone and still manages to do his job: and that is one of the reasons why I admire him. He would never, never, let me go through what he is going through; but he would never, never give up classified information either. I don't know how he would do it, but somehow he would betray neither my friendship nor his country.

He woke up, some time ago. Maybe an hour or two - it's impossible to track time here beyond guesses. And he blinked, and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, and gripped my hand like it was the last link between him and death. Maybe it is. Then he was gone again, unable to bear awareness for more than a few seconds. And he is dying slowly, right here in front if me, and I can see it but I can't do a damn thing! No, I can, but I won't do a damn thing. I'm choosing to let him die.

I'm choosing to let him die! Die. How will I live with myself? How could I ever face another partner, knowing I let him die? How could I work again? I will always feel the stickiness of his blood on my hands and seeping through my pants; always hear his screams when they drag him away from me; always see the hurt question in his eyes when he wakes up - "Why are you letting this happen?" I have no answer, and every time all I say is "I'm sorry." Over and over again. I sob it, I scream it, and I whisper it to his closed eyes, but it doesn't make any damn difference because I'm still not talking.

If I had any good left in me I would have broken by now. Good men don't last this long when it is an innocent who is taking their pain, whether it is their partner or not.

He groans in his sleep and a muffled sob escapes me. I hold his hand tighter, and whisper pleas to him to live for me, just please live for me. Maybe he will hear me and keep fighting. Just maybe.

And then they are back again and he is being dragged away again and I hear myself screaming again and I think maybe I am sobbing, but I don't really know because his hand missing from mine hurts so much. This was my last straw. They ripped his hand from mine, and I am here alone in this tiny room again and I will hear him start screaming again soon and I will be powerless - and now I think I will do anything to make it stop. To hell with the government and their damned secrets! They just ripped my heart out, and nothing matters anymore except getting it back and staying alive. I'm done doing the right thing. You hear me?! I'm done!


	3. Chapter 3

Again. They are taking me again. I am too weak to scream anymore, and every time I wake up I only last a few seconds before the fog pulls me back down. Everything hurts too much, and I can't handle it. Is this what dying feels like?

:::

I've been hurt before, banged up real good - but nothing like this. I've always lived through the pain and come back to tell of it. I don't think that will happen this time. How could I ever recover from this?

:::

I'm dying. I can feel it pulling in me, darker than the fog, and it is coming soon. My only regret is leaving him. When I am gone, will they kill him too?

:::

He is sobbing again, the broken sobs of a man who has nothing left in him. Maybe he will talk now, give up the secrets he is sacrificing my life for. I don't think it would help, anymore.

:::

The last time they bring me back and chain me up, the fog refuses to deliver me. I am left here to deal with the pain on my own, and all I can do is clench my jaw - which really helps nothing. The white-hotness of the pain fills my whole world, and if he is with me or gone, I can't tell. I am aware of nothing except the burning of my body and my fervent wish for death or sleep or anything that will relieve this pain. Anything, God!

But He refuses to allow me relief, and so I am still here surviving when I hear his voice breaking through the cloud of hot pain. He is saying something, something that I am angry about - but I am not sure what. He repeats it, and now I understand. I force out some sarcastic reply, but it is too weak for him to understand. He bends down to hear my whisper, and suddenly I am glad he did not understand. So instead of repeating my words, I tell him a kinder truth.

"It's okay."

Not just me, but him too - (It's okay, don't worry, I won't hold anything against you.) Because we both know he blames himself for all of this, and he would ask me to forgive him if he could get it past all the regret and shame and guilt and plain sorryness. So someday, when he is ready to ask, I will have already given it.

But right now, he hears only what he wants to. That's fine - he will never forget what I have said, and in the future he will be able to accept the forgiveness that he can't now. Hopefully someday soon.

**AN - Sorry. I've been trying to post this for a couple days now, but I am currently in India, and our Internet is not very reliable. **

**Oh, and I wanted to say that it would be awesome if everyone who is following this could leave a little review. It's easy to do, and it would make my day. :)**

** Also, just out of curiosity, who do you think is who? **


	4. Chapter 4

**[AN - This is the final chapter. Again, let me repeat my warning of general darkness. No real happy ending here, folks. Dixie, you might not want to read this.]****  
**

I'll talk! I'll bloody well talk now, cause I have just reached my breaking point. After so long, I have finally been pushed over the edge, and hell, I'll betray anyone and anything now, just to make it stop. Just please, make it stop!

:::

They finally drag him back in and chain his arm again - not that he could go anywhere anyway. I could almost laugh at it, but he is crying and I am just so, so ashamed. I always hear his screams when he is gone, but by the time they bring him back he has usually succumbed to the darkness. But this time he is quietly crying, and his little moans somehow tear at my heart even more than the agonizing screams. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, trying to deal with the pain.

I pound the wall with my fist and squeeze my eyes shut.

"I'll talk!" I blurt out before they can ask again. "god! I'll talk."

It is defeat, but I am beyond caring. They smile, in the sweetness of victory, and in another situation I would despise them. But here, with his broken body screaming at me from the corner, all I feel is relief that the suffering will soon be over, at least for him.

They unchain me and drag me out, deposit me back at the tired table, and replace the paper and pen. This time, I accept it, and press my information darkly into the pad. I refuse to think about the possible consequences of giving them this - all I think about is what will happen if I don't. I finish, and lay the pen back down. It feels final, like the last words before death.

The lift me from the chair and drag me back along the hallway to our tiny room, and throw me in, slamming the door shut with yet another echo of finality. They don't chain my arm this time, but I don't even stop to wonder why. I immediately pick myself up and crawl over to him. He is still awake, a small miracle. I hold his free hand tightly in both of mine, and now the tears come, running down my face and dripping onto the bloody floor.

"I talked. Do you hear me? It's over. I talked," the words spill out brokenly. He blinks painfully, and tries to say something. I bend down to hear to hear the raspy whisper.

"It's okay," he breathes. I smile a salty smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's all okay." I squeeze his hand and take a deep breath, trying to stop crying. He gives me as best a smile as he can, and then his eyes slip shut. I pull his hand to my chest and bow my head, as the sound of the sobs that I can't hold back anymore fill the room.

It's over.

**[If anyone is interested, I have alternate versions of chapters 3&4, that clear up the ambiguity. Warning - I don't generally write happy endings! But if you want to see them, just PM me and I will send them to you.**

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!]**


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